


We went against the world

by zinjadu



Series: Wed to Blight [54]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action, Determined Alistair, Dragon Age: Origins Quest - The Landsmeet, Duelling, F/M, Fights, Gen, POV Leliana (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21574102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: Leliana watches avidly as Alistair steps forward to champion the Grey Wardens at the Landsmeet.  She knows that one day this story will need to be told.  The day Maric's bastard fought Maric's oldest friend.   Grief was always how this would end, the question was only who would have their heart torn out.Note:This series is fully drafted!  We are six (SIX!) fics from the end, friends.  Thank you everyone for reading, giving kudos, and writing comments.  Much love for being along on this journey.
Relationships: Alistair & Leliana (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Tabris (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Tabris (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), Anora Mac Tir & Loghain Mac Tir, Leliana & Female Warden (Dragon Age), Leliana & Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: Wed to Blight [54]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/879681
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	We went against the world

Leliana watched as Caitwyn and Alistair exchanged a glance. For all that Alistair had been content to follow the younger woman’s lead, in this his course was set. His determination was visible in the clenched line of his jaw and the hard, determined light in his eyes. He was not asking her permission, not this time. Caitwyn hesitated, just a fraction, then spoke.

“Alistair will champion the Grey Warden's claims,” Caitwyn declared, voice pitched just right to carry to the rafters. Leliana's heart raced, in part with concern for her friend, but also because this was a story in the making. The true king returning to face his enemy, to take back his throne from the man who had killed his brother, though Alistair still maintained that he would not be king.

Caitwyn quit the makeshift arena, and stood beside Leliana.

“He will prevail, my friend, do not worry.” Leliana spoke but softly though she did not take her eyes off the two men as they circled each other, sizing each other up. One day, someone might ask her to tell this story. The story of the day the humble bastard became a king.

“That's not what I'm worried about.” Caitwyn’s voice was barely audible above the clamoring din of the bannorn. Fereldans, always eager to see a fight, even in the middle of a Blight.

Before Leliana could inquire further, however, Alistair silently charged Loghain. That was the first surprise of the duel. Alistair normally charged with a war cry, drawing the enemy to him. She supposed there was no need here, but it spoke of something different about this fight. Indeed, Alistair did not speak at all. No wry remarks or sly jibes as he often did even if they were only fighting darkspawn. Instead, he fought like a man possessed, giving no quarter, no time to rest, pushing Loghain past the limits of his endurance. But the older man was not out of resources, not yet.

With a grunt of effort, Loghain backhanded Alistair with his shield, sending the would-be king staggering, falling to the ground. Dazed, Alistair tried to shake off the blow, but Loghain closed quickly and swung his sword. Caitwyn sucked in a hard breath, and out the corner of her eye, Leliana saw her friend about to rush in, to do something, anything to save her lover. Leliana gripped Caitwyn’s arm tightly, holding her back.

“You cannot,” Leliana told her friend. Though Caitwyn’s expression was as closed off as Leliana had ever seen it, but her eyes, oh Maker her eyes were desperate.

“Get _up_ , Alistair, _shield up_ ,” the young woman said, no, Leliana realized _ordered_. As though Caitwyn's voice cut through the noise and his muddled senses, Alistair's shield came up just in time to stop Loghain's sword. A delighted cheer rose from the bannorn, and Leliana glanced around, taking in the faces of those who cheered and those who blanched in concern. Neither could Leliana miss Anora's face. As stoic as Caitwyn's, as they all watched Alistair use his shield to protect himself as he stood.

This story would have heartache, no matter what happened, and Leliana felt a sliver of remorse in hoping that her friend prevailed. Because if he did, it would mean a daughter would lose her father.

Loghain had counted on that shield bash working, on Alistair not recovering so quickly, and now he was driven back. Back and back as Alistair wore down the older man's defenses. Loghain fought a rearguard action now, though he managed to find the space to strike with his sword, aiming for Alistair's right flank. Alistair caught the strike on his shield and turned it back on Loghain, driving the other man off balance. Open and unprotected, Loghain could do nothing as Alistair stuck with a heavy overhand blow, driving the man to his knees.

Where he yielded.

Leliana's breath caught as Alistair held his sword high, prepared to strike regardless of the rules of the contest, but then Loghain spoke, proving he still knew how to turn the tide of things. 

“So, there is some of Maric in you after all. Good.” Cold blue eyes stared up at the man who might yet still be king. His voice had barely reached Leliana's ears, and she knew then it was meant for Alistair alone to hear, not the bannorn. She doubted anyone could hear much over the excited, disbelieving rumble of the assembled nobility.

“That, that was not a smart thing to say,” Caitwyn said thickly, and Leliana understood what that meant when she heard Alistair's reply.

“Forget Maric.” Alistair’s voice normally light and unaffected, was as heavy and sharp as the blade of a sword. Removing his helm, he let it crash to the stone floor and hazel eyes flickered to green. Not for permission, but for the barest warning he would provide. He hefted his sword. “This is for Duncan.” 

Leliana caught the desperate looks. Anora to her father, and then to Caitwyn. Caitwyn for a moment watching the queen, sympathy melting away as something as hard and cold as stone took hold in her friend.

Alistair brought his sword down, and Loghain Mac Tir died, executed for his crimes.

Anora cried out, a wail of grief as she knelt at her father's side, his blood staining the fabric of her dress. Alistair cleaned and sheathed his sword, returning to stand at Caitwyn's side, and Leliana saw the story going in a way that few would expect. If this were a tale or a ballad, Alistair would soon be declared king, his parentage made known.

But he did not care for the father he never knew, for the duty he did not consider his. He had already chosen his duty, his path, and that was when Leliana knew this was a story she would take to her grave. The story of a man who came within a hair's breadth of glory and walked away.


End file.
